


building a sill

by feminist14er



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feminist14er/pseuds/feminist14er
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy and Sam aren't sleeping together (speculation for 5.04).</p>
            </blockquote>





	building a sill

So, they don’t have sex. And frankly, they don’t have sex some more. If their relationship prior to breaking up the first time was eighty percent sex, their relationship now consists one hundred percent of platonic interaction.

And don’t get Andy wrong – there’s something to be said for that as well. She’s been uncertain about the entire situation since Sam woke up and was going to be okay. Meeting Sarah, well, that only made her more uncertain. She’s tired of people telling her that Sam is never going to change, that he’s only going to hurt her. She’s tired of it, but at the same time, she’s not sure that people are _wrong_. On the contrary, however, no one told her that about Luke, and let’s be very clear about how that particular relationship ended.

But the thing about Sam is this – he can be steady and reliable, rock solid one minute, and the next minute, he’s as far across the room as can be, both physically and mentally, and all of a sudden, he’s completely unreachable. Andy’s always figured he had a screwed up childhood. Her own childhood aside, she recognizes the signs of someone who’s uncomfortable in constant close contact with another person, the signs of someone who doesn’t trust easily, who’s spent an inordinate amount of time guarding himself. She recognizes the signs because she sees them in herself, in the domestic dispute calls they answer (especially the ones that involve kids), and in the people she works with. She just wishes that the new openness he’s showing her was more – well, she doesn’t know what exactly. She’s not sure it’s real, is the thing, and it scares her on so many levels, because if she can’t trust Sam, she’s honestly not sure who she can, or should trust. 

She wants to trust him. She wants to put her whole faith back in him, crawl back inside him and curl up and feel safe again. She wants, she wants. But she also wants the reciprocation from him, wants him to be able to do the same, wants to shield him and whatever fragility he carries around from the outside world. Wants to protect him from whatever it was that drove a wedge between he and Sarah, and she wants not only to protect him, but to mend him. And that’s what she knows is dangerous, and that’s at least part of what’s keeping them apart.

But at the same time, they’re not apart at all. They’re weirdly close, actually, her visiting him at the hospital, then at his house. She cooks for him, doesn’t even burn anything, which is truly remarkable, then sits with him on the couch, flipping through magazines idly. She knows he watches her, and she watches him from under her eyelashes, her whole body set to this quiet vibrate now that she’s back in his house. It’s weird – things are different in his house, but subtly so, not so much that she doesn’t feel back at home. 

And god, fuck, it’s weird – thinking that she’s back at home. They actually spent remarkably little time at his house while they were together, most of their time in her crappy bed, with her wonky oven. She spent time at his house, sure, but very little, and mostly only when they left shift together. It took her a long time to get the smell of him, of them out of her house, and she’s weirdly pleased that she can settle back into his house without any problem. She’s even more weirdly pleased when Sam lets her follow him up to his bed, even when it’s as simple as making sure he makes it up the stairs okay. Sarah didn’t come back when he left the hospital; he had no one to watch out for him, and Andy couldn’t leave him to it, the nagging at the back of her brain that he wasn’t ready, wouldn’t be ready, and she couldn’t stay with him, but she could make sure he got to bed okay. 

She weirdly wants to kiss him on the forehead again, smooth his hair back, tuck the sheets up higher. Thinks about doing it for a little girl with his eyelashes and her dark skin, and shudders, a deep aching feeling permeating her skin and her bones. He looked at her when it happened, and she just smiled, slipping out of his room, closing the door to his house, and knocking the back of her skull against the door. She’s not sure if she was trying to get a reality check, or if she was trying to knock herself back into reality, but either way, it hasn’t worked.

And then he’s back, and they’re working in close proximity like they haven’t since before Jerry, and it’s weird, and it’s wonderful, but mostly it’s happenstance, only an option because he’s still on light duty. She makes him coffee like she would’ve when he was still her TO, watches his face as he drinks it down. He’s off some of the healthier stuff he was drinking beforehand, and Andy’s weirdly relieved, although she’s okay with him changing. She thinks she is, at least.

So they settle into this routine – close proximity, shoulders brushing, going places together, but no sleeping together. No making out, even, and frankly, Andy misses that as much as she misses the sex. Sam’s weirdly good with his mouth (good with it all over her body, and that sends another shudder through her, lightning through her veins), and she misses being kissed, misses the physical affection and comfort of another person like she might miss a limb. She was never very handsy before Sam, but during and after him – he was solidly reassuring, a presence she couldn’t shake, and she misses the proximity, the safety of him.

It’s certainly strange, and she knows it. He was simultaneously insecurity and safety all at once, and if she doesn’t miss the thrill of that particular combination, she certainly misses the comfort he provided.

But instead, they orbit each other. She tells Traci that they’re just friends. She avoids Nick, avoids the awkwardness there, but she doesn’t avoid Sam. She can’t help but linger near him whenever she can. She wanders through his orbit, and some sort of magnetic attraction draws her to him. And honestly, she almost wishes one of them would act on the electricity slowly humming between the two of them; she wants to be one thing or another, not this strange, if very friendly, in-between category. She knows the others are watching them, knows that Nick saw them come in together at Fite Night. She doesn’t want to be the reason he lost. Doesn’t want to have put him through even more pain and harm than he’s already been through. Especially doesn’t want that if there’s nothing there.

And there is something. She knows. Sam knows. They look at each other some times, and the air crackles between them. She’s drawn to him, but she’s trying – she wants them both to be better this time. She wants to be comfortable in her own skin, and she wants the same for Sam. She wants it to work, or she doesn’t want to go back. 

It’s a shitty shift, Duncan pulling all sorts of rookie mistakes and walking them into a situation that she knows they could have avoided, had she just been paying more attention. It’s Duncan, and it’s Nick, and it’s all the crap that seems to be floating around the station; Oliver angry at his promotion, Traci and Steve and Dexter, and god only knows what’s eating Chris and Dov, and all she wants is something simple. Just one thing, she thinks and all of a sudden, they’ve been hands off and hands off, and she is one hundred percent hands on, leaning over the console, tongues sliding against each other until she nips his lower lip, and the growl in the back of his throat is the thing that sets her veins singing. It’s wrong, and it’s right, but it’s happening, and it’s the one easy decision she’s made today, and they are in business, her hands sliding under his thermal, and him palming her breast through her shirt.

They are also in his truck in the parking lot, however, and it’s this thought that has her pulling away, trying to collect her breath. He’s looking at her like he’s not entirely sure what to think, and she leans across before she thinks about it to kiss him again, pulling away before they get carried away again.

“Drive,” she tells him, and the flash of a grin across his face is all she needs to see to know that this is right, whatever the consequences.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the trailer for 5.04 - Rookie Blue obviously does not belong to me.


End file.
